Part 15 (1/2)

”What do you want me to do?” he asked.

She made a sign of impatience; he was too direct. ”Oh,” she pouted, ”aren't you taking a good deal for granted? Still, you bushmen can shoot, can't you?”

”As a rule,” Lisle answered. ”I almost think I see.”

”Then,” she retorted, ”you shouldn't have said so; you should merely have smiled and acted.”

”I'm from the wilds; you mustn't expect too much. Well, if you'll excuse me.”

She flashed a grateful glance at him, and he sauntered toward the group of men, among whom Gladwyne stood. There was a sharp crack as he approached them, a thin streak of smoke drifted across the figure lying on the mat, and a man beside it lowered the gla.s.ses he held.

”High to the left,” he announced. ”You're not in good form, Jim. Hadn't you better give up?”

Lisle studied the speaker, whom he had met once or twice already. He was approaching middle-age and was inclined to corpulence, but there was something in his pose that suggested a military training. His face was fleshy, but the features were bold and he was coa.r.s.ely handsome. As a rule, he affected an easy good-humor, but Lisle had felt that there was something about him which he could best describe as predatory. He occasionally spoke of business ties, so he had an occupation, but he had not in Lisle's hearing mentioned what it was.

Crestwick's face was hot as he answered his remark.

”Not at all, Batley. The trouble is that I'm used to the Roberts target, and the spots on the card are puzzling after the rings. I'll get into it presently.”

”Oh, well,” acquiesced the other. ”As you didn't fix a time limit, we'll go on again, though it's getting tame and I want some tea.”

”I'll increase the interest again, if you like,” the lad replied.

Lisle joined the group.

”What's it all about?” he asked.

”Batley's a pretty good rifle shot, but if he won't mind my saying so he's a little opinionated,” Gladwyne explained. ”Crestwick questioned an idea of his, and the end of it was that Batley offered to prove his point--that a stiff pull-off is as good as a light one in practised hands--by backing himself to beat the field. Crestwick took him up, and since the rest of us were obviously out of it, the thing has resolved itself into a match between the two. Crestwick is using an easy-triggered rifle; Batley's has an unusually hard spring.”

Lisle considered. Remembering Bella's remarks, he thought it would be easy to lure the lad into a rash bet. He was headstrong and his manners might have been more conciliatory, but Lisle, learning the amount of the stakes, decided that his host should not have let the thing go so far.

”Crestwick doubled several times; he's stubborn and doesn't like to be beaten,” Gladwyne resumed. ”I had the same ideas when I was as young as he is.”

”I've offered to let him off,” Batley broke in. ”I'd do so now only he's kept me shooting for the last half-hour. As Gladwyne says, he's obstinate, and it's a pity that he's wrong. If he'd trained his wrist-tendons by using a harder trigger, he'd have made a pa.s.sably good shot.”

Lisle was aware that while there was something to be said for Batley's view, Crestwick was justified in contending that the lighter tension was more adapted to the case of the average person; but he recognized that the indulgent manner of the older men was calculated, he thought intentionally, to exasperate the hot-headed lad.

”Well,” he observed, addressing Batley, ”you have the courage of your convictions if you have offered to maintain them against all comers, which I understand is what you have done.”

The man nodded carelessly and Lisle went on:

”After all, since I dare say these gentlemen are more used to the shotgun, your superiority doesn't prove very much.”

Crestwick looked around at him quickly.

”Most of you Colonials can use the rifle; do you feel inclined to take him on? You're a dark horse, but I'll double the stakes if he'll throw you in.”

This was what Lisle wanted, but he turned to the others.

”I've never had a small rifle in my hands--we use the 44-70, and I must leave you to decide whether my shooting would be fair to Mr. Batley. In that case, I'll put up half the stakes.”

The men said there was no reason why he should not join, and Batley made no protest, though Lisle fancied that he was not pleased. Lying down on the mat, he took the light-springed rifle and the six cartridges handed him and fixed his eyes on the target, which was a playing-card pinned to a thick plank. He got the first shot off before he was quite ready--the light pull was new to him--and somebody called that he had touched the left top corner. The next shot was down at the bottom, and the four following marks were scattered about the card. When he got up, Batley looked rea.s.sured and proceeded to make a neat pattern around the center of another card. There was no doubt that Crestwick was anxious, and when he took his turn he shot badly. In the meanwhile, the rest of the party on the lawn had gradually gathered round; the eager att.i.tude of the original spectators hinted that something out of the usual course was going on.